Peace
by Greened Ink
Summary: It was like trying to grasp smoke between their fingers. Seemingly impossible to achieve, yet also impossible to stop attempting. J/C
1. Tied

Author's Note: I needed a break from my other fic and this happened. Sooooo... whatever. I'm rolling with it.

Space. It was empty and cold. Devoid of sound and substance, except where small pinpricks shone bright with life and potential, like pearls hidden in a velvet blanket.

From the Bridge of Voyager, Tom Paris gazed at the tiny green planet breaking up the darkness on the viewscreen with unconcealed longing in his eyes. "What if someone runs into trouble? I could go make sure the transporters are working prop-"

"The transporters are functioning within normal parameters, Lieutenant." Tuvok spoke up behind him, seated in the Captain's chair and seeming less than patient but otherwise unmoved. "Referring to what might go wrong every five minutes, however, would not change matters even if they were not."

"But-"

"The Captain's orders were very specific on this matter." Tuvok turned back to reviewing the _padd_ he held in his hand, slim fingers tightening on it.

"It's just cruel!" Tom protested, turning his seat around so he could look the Vulcan in the eye. He ignored the brow raised at him and gestured at the viewscreeen. "To keep a guy stuck on a ship with such a beautiful planet not a transport away! Think about it Tuvok- lush jungles, teaming marketplaces, exotic foods and the women..." His face conveyed the ecstasy yet to be uncovered.

"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you ignored warnings and chose to take bets on whether the Captain was going to take the people of Caltis up on their offer or not."

"It was just a little harmless fun." Tom sulked, leaning back into his seat and folding his arms over his chest.

"The Captain was clearly not amused."

"Just because they requested she participate in their festival in exchange for trade and shore leave for the crew, she gets in a bad mood and suddenly everything is my fault." Tom groused. "Besides, that doesn't explain what you did to get stuck here too."

"Since the Captain was indisposed, it fell to Commander Chakotay to arrange trade agreements with the Caltisen officials. They would trade with no one of lesser authority. Someone with the proper rank needs to stay with the ship, regardless, and you are under disciplinary restrictions, which falls under my purview as Chief of Security. Thus, my presence here." He taped something on the padd and then on the console to his left.

Tom turned his chair back around to face front. "I still say it was an overreaction. Making a man miss out on such an opportunity."

To that, Tuvok made no comment, sure that in not five more minutes, the Lieutenant would start up again with his complaints.

Down on the planet, the sunlight was bright, midday near at hand. It beat down on the market square, where Caltisen's shopped and sold- trading items back and forth or offering markers for special, large trade items stored rather than present. They looked like exotic birds with their brightly colored clothes and sharp noses. The double ears on the sides of their heads hung thickly with beads and earrings and filled the air of the marketplace with a musical tinkling.

Up on a platform ringing one side of the market was the entrance to a kind of amphitheater at the center of the city and on the platform, near the meeting of the double stairs up to the entrance, a Caltisen female dressed all in a eye-distracting pink danced.

"Forward with the left leg and bring the arm up at the same time. Keep your hip tilted back." She instructed, freezing in place to watch.

Captain Kathryn Janeway did her best to copy the woman without wincing, feeling the muscles in her leg trying to cramp as she pointed her foot appropriately. It had been too long since she'd last danced, her muscles were stiff with lack of use and fatigue from running threw this same routine for six hours straight. Her uniform wasn't making it any easier either, despite the fact that she'd removed her jacket after the first hour. In fact, her boots were making this downright tortuous. She knew she should have changed before coming here. She wasn't dressed for contorting her body into these positions.

A passing uniform, its black standing out in the sea of color, caught her attention.

Commander Chakotay looked up and grinned as he walked past, _padd_ in hand.

Kathryn just glared at him, turning her hand away from her as Fazimaf, her Caltisen instructor, showed her.

His grin widened at her disgruntled look, crinkling the edges of his eyes. He paused briefly, losing his Caltisen counterpart in the flow of foot traffic, and raised his eyebrows, smile still in place.

She rolled her eyes and sighed, conveying that while growing bored and exhausted, she wasn't being tortured, however it may feel. Nor was she about to lose her cool. Fazimaf was kind, if a little self-absorbed, and was extremely patient with her.

Getting the message that she wasn't really in need of assistance, Chakotay lifted his _padd,_ tilting it back and forth to indicate that his progress was so-so as of yet.

Pursing her lips to keep her own smile to a minimum, she lifted a single eyebrow.

In answer, Chakotay held up his hands placatingly, then mimed tying them up and shrugged his shoulders.

_Our hands are tied anyway, right?_

Kathryn snorted slightly and laughed aloud.

"Something amusing, Captain?" Fazimaf asked primly, folding herself out of position and standing straight facing her.

"Uh-" Kathryn shook her head. "No, not at all." She felt like a misbehaving schoolgirl caught in the act.

"Then let us continue." Fazimaf took back up her position and lifted her foot.

Kathryn copied her and on one foot, looked back at Chakotay.

He had a hand over his mouth and was turning a light shade of red from lack of oxygen.

Glaring icily at him, she jerked her head, telling him in no uncertain terms that he could _leave_ now.

Whether he would have obeyed or not was moot as his counterpart returned, lightly touching his arm and speaking as he gestured the way he had disappeared. Chakotay nodded and began to follow him again, but cast a look back over his shoulder at her, smiling impishly.

She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him like a petulant child as she grudgingly smiled back, already shifting positions in mimicry of Fazimaf again.


	2. Breathe

Author's Note: Thank you, anonymous, for the compliments and the constructive criticism. I'll try harder to catch my typos. However, I contend that when people can't catch their breath because they are laughing too hard, or are trying not to laugh, they do in fact turn red. Not blue. Blue comes after, when they are in danger of losing consciousness, or already have. Thanks for the feedback!

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, obviously, nor this show. This fic is for entertainment purposes only.

Chapter Two: Breathe.

"Does the product meet with your requirements, Commander?"

Chakotay eyed the warehouse full of raw materials and nodded, keeping his smile polite, trying not to show his excitement too openly. This was the last transaction he needed to arrange after almost a week straight of seemingly unending negotiations. It marked the last time he'd have to work around the Caltisens complex barter system, and it was exactly what B'Elanna had asked for. After so many times having to tell the Chief Engineer she'd have to make do with what she had, this was going to make him her new best friend for at least a month. "It does." He said evenly, turning about.

"Then the trade is acceptable." His counterpart, Rathore, made a small note on his hand-held instrument and tucked the thing into his clothing.

He did the same, putting the _padd_ into the bag slung across his shoulders.

"It has been a pleasure." Rathore bowed to him and he copied the gesture. "I assume I shall see you at the Otho tonight?"

Unable to stop himself, Chakotay smiled hugely. "Oh, I wouldn't miss it." He made another, smaller bow, adding an honorific. "Pa-Rathore."

"Pa-Chakotay."

As he stepped out of the warehouse and made the call up to Voyager, he couldn't help wonder just what exactly his Captain would have to do in this 'Otho' part of the festival. He'd seen Kathryn studying with a Caltisen female, slow moves that denoted some kind of dance perhaps, but the Caltisens themselves had been very vague to him and the Captain wasn't allowed to speak of it. The only thing they had asked her was if she could sing or dance or play some kind of instrument. He'd never seen anyone look so excited to be told a complete stranger used to dance when she was young.

Either way, it did nothing to diminish his own anticipation. It was sure to be a night to remember.

:

The air was balmy, almost too hot even in the shaded pavilion provided at the back of the amphitheater for those participating in the performance. Kathryn fanned herself in an attempt to relieve some of the seemingly airless heat, at the same time shifting one of the pavilions veils aside to peek out.

A wide expanse of open ground was the stage of the amphitheater and raised around it were tiers, all of them draped in clothe and cushions for sitting. The whole thing was massive and already filled with over three hundred Caltisens, every one talking and fairly buzzing with excitement. A special section at the front had been set aside for her crew and was bustling with people in uniform, all being served food and drinks by their gracious hosts.

She really wished she was out there with them instead of back here.

Still, she supposed she had reason to be more than grateful. Her participation in the festival's Otho performance had been the Caltisen's only request in exchange for their open hospitality, lucrative trade, and a chance for her crew to rest and relax in such a beautifully lush landscape. For a planet that subsisted solely on bartering, it really was a wonderful opportunity. Everything they had was exotic to this planet and fetched a great price in the form of essential supplies.

A little dancing was worth it. A small price to pay. All she had to do was to keep telling herself that and she might be able to get through this.

"The Otho is about to begin." A Caltisen trilled somewhere on the other side of the pavilion.

Okay. Deep breaths. She knew this dance by heart now. It would be easy. Just because she felt like a six year old going out onto a stage for the first time again, didn't mean she couldn't do this.

"Pa-Kathryn!"

She started slightly, obviously more ill at ease than she was trying to convince herself, looking back to see Fazimaf approaching her with a dark purple bundle in hand. She tried to smile through her sudden nerves.

"Here. You must hurry and dress." The woman fussed, holding out the purple clothe. Her tone was a little irritated but not unkindly as she stopped in front of her.

Kathryn stared at it for a moment, uncertain.

However, Fazimaf huffed and reached forward to tug at the edge of her uniform. It was only then that it became apparent that the thing she was holding must be her costume or attire for the performance.

"Oh." She said dully, shamed by her obtuseness. Her fingers slide over the material as Fazimaf handed it over, feeling the soft silk of it.

Fazimaf stood watching her expectantly.

"Uh, is there a place where I can change?"

"Here." The woman said succinctly, clearly not understanding.

"No, I meant somewhere more... private?" She tried to elucidate.

Fazimaf frowned in confusion.

"Most humans aren't comfortable changing in front of anyone they are not... intimate with." Her explanation tapered off at the end, as she was unsure if the Caltisen understood.

However, the instructor seemed to accept that as answer enough. She led her to a corner where a screen stood and could be pulled over to provide some cover from others eyes.

As quickly as she could, because she still felt exposed, Kathryn stripped out of her uniform and pulled the first piece of clothe on over her head.

It was a simple enough design, a little like the leotards she'd had to wear in ballet at the top, dipping down her spine and exposing the flesh. At the bottom, it fanned in a skirt down past her knees. The other piece were leggings that would cover up her bare legs. The whole thing draped on her well and she was impressed by the craftsmanship that had gone into making just this single costume. It fit amazingly, but that didn't surprise her. They'd taken her measurements enough times to get it exactly right.

When she'd dressed, Fazimaf spent a brief period applying a blue-colored kind of tape to her feet and ankles. She could see it on all the other dancers too, beneath their form-fitting soft shoes. She pulled on her purple shoes and was abruptly being hauled to her feet and ushered into a line, joined by Fazimaf behind.

Deep breaths. All she had to do now was not make a fool of herself. If she got this right, than everything would be perfect.

A cymbal sound pealed through the air and the sounds on the other side of the dark curtain went quiet.

She breathed in deeply to steady herself.


	3. Legends

Author's Note: Because you asked for more.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, obviously, nor this show. This fic is for entertainment purposes only.

Chapter Three: Legends.

"So, Cha-kotay- how've the trade negotiations gone so far?"

Chakotay smiled up at B'Elanna Torres as the engineer sat cross-legged beside him, nabbing a pillow from beside him to lean on. "Actually, we've finished." He smiled.

She blinked up at him, momentarily stunned. "What, already?"

He nodded. "Just a few loose ends I can actually finish from the ship."

Her face fell.

"Well, don't look so excited." He harrumphed. "I only managed to get you your alloy to make replacements for the gel pack connectors. Not like there's anything to be grateful for."

"Oh, no, that's great. Really." The engineer picked at the seam of the pillow, mumbling slightly into her chest. "It's just... I kinda hoped we could stay for a while longer. Actually the whole crew was kinda hoping that."

"What, almost an entire week on a jungle planet not enough for you?" He just gave her a gentle grin to let her know he was teasing. "If it cheers you at all, I think the Captain was hoping the same thing."

"After what they're making her do?"

"When have you ever known the Captain to put her own comfort above what's best for the crew?" He countered, raising his eyebrows at her, at which she nodded and shrugged in acceptance of that truth. Looking down at the amphitheater's stage grounds, he continued. "They only said this, Otho, part of the festival was for guests' leaders. They didn't say she had to do anything else and they didn't put a time limit on our shore leave. I'd like the Captain to have the chance to really enjoy it here and relax as well. She's been working nonstop. It'll be my recommendation regardless that the crew take some more down time here, if only so she joins in. Besides, you never know when we'll have such an opportunity again."

"Got that right." B'Elanna griped, taking a cheery-like berry from a platter beside them and popping it in her mouth. "Not to be a broken record, but do you think, if we do stay for awhile, the Captain might let Tom off the hook?"

He sighed, smiling still. "That's up to her honestly. He really shouldn't have kept joking, not after she caught him. It just made things worse. I think she was ready to let him off with a warning before he opened his mouth."

"He _is_ usually more subtle." She conceded, seeming more amused than worried.

"Either way, you know the Captain." He shrugged. "She's got a soft spot for Tom and his antics. I think she'll cut him a break before we leave orbit."

B'Elanna looked relieved.

"Who knows, she might be in a good mood if tonight goes well." He waggled his eyebrows at his friend playfully, knowing she would grasp his meaning. The Captain had been particularly grumpy as of late, rubbing at sore muscles and almost nodding off when she sat still. She'd even been limping every now and then in a subtle way, but only he had really noticed that. "She won't have any more training to suffer through."

As expected, the half-Klingon chuckled, shoving lightly on his shoulder as he grinned.

A kind of gong sounded just at sundown, while the sun's rays still painted the sky above. All around the Voyager crew members, the Caltisens went silent and still.

The visitors followed suit, the last of them taking their seats, a good four-fifths of the crew present. He shifted to face forward more fully as music began flowing out from the sides of the theater and Caltisens started flooding onto the grounds just below them.

It was a group of males, clothed in drably colored garments for a change. In fact, as they came to a stop and took up their positions, it was actually hard to differentiate them from the hardened ground beneath them. Chakotay watched, enraptured with the rest of his crew, as the men began to move. They tumbled about in their dance, undulating with the music like it was an extension of themselves.

He was impressed. They were capable and the rattling of the bundles of small pods wrapped round their ankles created a sonorous beat for the music to echo against.

Slowly, two at the front peeled and folded their clothing in strange ways, turning brown down to reveal different colored costumes on the underside. The others followed suit. Eventually, each dancer wore a solid color, but there were so many of them it was hard to pull one from another in his head. There were dark reds, with oranges and yellows and occasional whites in all different shades, in all different places, all disclosed one at a time till the whole ground looked like an emerging volcano.

More Caltisens, these female from what he could see, spilled into the gaps of red, all wearing shades of blues and browns and greens. A quietness settled over Chakotay at what was unfolding before him.

It was a sea of color telling a story.

This was a legend. Their legend- one that they were sharing. He could feel it in his very bones and to say he felt honored would have been an understatement. It was beautiful. A Caltisen voice, pitched low like most of their voices, rang out in a song and he didn't need a translation to realize that it was a story of the creation of their world. Some kind of ancient ballet of added voices and moving limbs that showed the growth of life.

Layers of dancers retreated from the grounds as one, leaving only women in blues and greens and whites, who just kept moving and filled in the spaces as though without thought. They moved like an ocean, many waters spilling and flowing, a liquid dance. Then, suddenly, the music ceased and all the women dropped to the ground as though dead. Their limp bodies thudded loudly as they hit.

A crewman made to stand in front of him, obviously startled, but was held still as her companion pointed to the stage as though telling her to take a closer look.

In the center of the fallen dancers one lone figure, upright but shorter and far more pale-skinned than the Caltisens brown, stood out.

The Captain stood with arms raised, hands meeting over her head palm to palm, as absolutely still as those on the floor. The lines of her body were perfectly draped by the dark purple-blue dress she wore and her long hair had been left wild and unbound about her shoulders but for two tiny braids running along the center part at the top. Her eyes were closed, almost like she was praying. Painted about her lids were black lines and faint blues and purples, with touches of yellow hues down her cheeks. The flesh of her lips was painted white.

Abruptly, she opened her eyes and spun, dipping her left arm low. She began to dance.

It took several moments for Chakotay to even realize he could hear a deep thrum driving her, he was so entranced. A haunting melody blossomed from he didn't even know where and she moved with it. Consumed it as hers and hers alone with lean muscles perfectly controlled and smooth. It was like second nature to her.

To think there were times he forgot Kathryn had been a dancer.

There was a design in every move she made, a fierceness and freedom in every step and expression, grace and coiled strength in every spin of her delicate frame. The tone of the music shifted and she with it, spinning in a perfect circle on one foot. There she stopped for a long moment, still as a statue as the music grew louder and louder. When she started moving with it again, the motions were abrupt. Her feet fell heavier, her projected attitude turned darker and more determined. She moved forward slowly, side to side, hips swaying in a deliberate slide as she edged out of her small sphere of movement where she had previously seemed encapsulated. The dancers on the floor fled from her steps without appearing to move a single muscle. Made room for her- almost as though they really were liquid being repelled by her magnetic force. Her hands framed her figure, curling down her legs to where her knees bent, dipping her torso low as she looked over the bodies about her. Her sinewy body curved in time with the music, head tilting while her eyes raked over them.

Then abruptly, she swung her arm out and green-clad forms rose as though lifted by the front of their chests on order of her will alone.

His eyes caught the withdrawing hands of the other dancers on the floor, but his real attention was on one thing and one thing only. His Captain tilted her head back to point her face at the now darkened sky, eyes closed. She swayed gently. The risen dancers moved with her as one. Like trees in a high wind. Then they danced, still swaying gently. He watched on in amazement as, all eyes closed, the dancers moved in perfect synchronicity.

All the time, Kathryn didn't miss a single step, didn't stumble.

He stared; he couldn't help it. She was moving like she'd known this dance all her life, rather than learning it in a few, now seemingly short days of intense study. The way she matched with the other dancers so that they all flowed together seemed impossible without knowing her companions for years. He'd seen Kathryn dance before, but never like this. Never this... open. This exposed.

Telling stories with her body. Moving with her soul.

It was dazzling. _She_ was dazzling. She was magnificent.

Another shift in music sent the women in green scurrying away, leaving the stage completely. Kathryn turned her back, unconsciously showcasing the arc of her spine and the rippling of her slim shoulder blades under the smooth, pale skin of her back. One raised arm and the women in white rose and swarmed around her. Hands reached out and lifted the Captain into the air, flipping her gently among them like they were the wind and she a leaf caught in their tumbling. She held very still and once again, Chakotay found himself admiring her control. Her eyes never opened, her muscles never twitched. Not even when her head came so close to slamming into the floor several crewmen gasped and rose half out of their seats before being pressed back down.

When she was returned to the ground again, she opened her eyes and promptly dropped to her knees as the music fell away again, taking the women in white with it.

It was those in blue who moved this time, unprompted. They crawled across the floor to Kathryn and reached out their hands to touch her. Together they reached over their shoulders and pulled their dresses half off and then around again, draping themselves in the brown undercolor till they faded into the floor. He couldn't even tell when they left the stage, only knowing it for an absence because that was the way it _felt_.

At the same time, the Captain unbent gracefully and laid herself flat on her belly.

For a moment, Chakotay wondered if that was the end.

Except, to the accompaniment of only a single flute-like instrument that matched her figure perfectly and a bass-toned drum, Kathryn began clawing her way to her feet, movements suddenly jerking. She seemed to keep the rhythm in an unconscious way rather than an obvious one.

And then, she was spiraling.

It looked wild and out of control. Her legs and feet never stilled for an instant, her arms spinning- propelling her body this way and that. A radiant smile graced her lips, telling him that she was feeling that joy all the way to her toes.

He watched her twirl so beautifully, so breathtakingly, it made him ache deep in his chest and he had to drop his eyes to pull himself back. To gain some distance from the performance.

That didn't last long though.

The music pulsed and he couldn't keep his eyes away. The men in their reds and oranges, yellows and whites bubbled up from a single point in the dark curtained wall at the back. Spilling forth like a gushing geyser. Crawling and prancing over the floor. Surrounding the Captain's whirling frame. In a wave they flattened themselves out to cover every inch of the floor in a pattern of darkest reds, oranges, yellows and finally whites. A rebirth.

Two men only still stood. They caught and quickly encompassed Kathryn between them, blocking out her purple so that it seemed she had disappeared just as the music flowed to a final halt.

The Caltisen audience erupted.


	4. Gifts

Author's Note: Thanks so much for the encouragement!

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, obviously, nor this show. This fic is for entertainment purposes only.

Chapter Four: Gifts.

Kathryn Janeway had never been one to gloat. She'd never needed to. It had never given her a high, even when she was young and foolish enough to believe herself invincible. At the time of her adolescence, that was probably due to the way her parents had raised her. Her mother was a confident, no nonsense woman and her father... well, he'd been a Starfleet admiral.

Enough said.

Now that she was pushing into the her forties, she had been through enough over the years to temper herself with wisdom. She knew who she was because she tested herself constantly, so she didn't need others to do it for her or to approve of her in any way. Granted, she enjoyed it when people knew who they were dealing with and anyone who underestimated her learned swiftly why that was a bad idea. She was justifiably proud of her crew and the Federation too, but she had always known the difference between confidence and superiority. Her actions spoke for themselves and when they didn't- then no one needed to know about them. That was the way she liked it.

Today, however... today even _she_ had to admit that the performance of the Otho could not have gone better. Being rather far out of her comfort zone, nervousness had inched it's way up her spine and caused a tremor of doubt at the start when a hand on her back had pushed her out of the pavilion and there were a few times right in the beginning when she thought for sure she'd messed up the steps. Her stomach had been a roiling knot as she tried to remember the complicated dance and match it to the rhythm pulsating through her feet. But then, she'd let her instincts and body take over, losing herself in the music and dance, only to emerge from her trance of movement to a deafening roar.

A great wave of sound, most distinctly the Caltisen's trilling and her crew's applause, flooded over them. It was so intense, she had to hold onto something to stay upright as she strained for breath and tried to regain her bearings. After a long moment of gasping against rough brown cloth, almost trembling from the exertion, she was finally able to realize that she was still pressed between the bodies of two _very_ well-muscled Caltisen males. Oh stars! If she hadn't already been flushed, she would have embarrassed herself by doing so at that moment. All the training in the world wouldn't have been able to spare her the awkwardness of that.

However, luckily, the moment she turned her attention on how to extricate herself out of her awkward predicament, the dancers stepped to either side, baring her to the world. One brought an arm up behind her to pull her forward a little into the group of men. She felt suddenly light headed. Behind her, the women dancers poured from the curtain to join them and she managed to shake off her shock enough to move together as one, placing their fingertips to their eyes and bowing. She peeked around her fingers to look out at the sea of faces scattered upward.

In the audience, the Caltisens were doing the same back at the performers, still trilling loudly. A smile curled her lips when she saw her crew following suit a little clumsily. After that, it was a blur of movement, of being swamped by her fellow dancers. They praised and thanked her in voices so loud, she felt deafened while she was being herded back away from the audience and her crew into the pavilion. Some Caltisens were already stripping out of their costumes within the lit interior of the tent-like structure, most being downright profuse in their compliments to her as she passed. She tried to accept the regard with poise, but it was hard to do with the general lack of modesty in the native culture. There were several moments when she had to look away abruptly while a fellow dancer was commenting that in all their years of performing the Otho, no visitor had ever done as well as she had. She then paused half-way into the crowded pavilion, unsure where she was headed or where she had left her own clothing. She peered around curiously.

It wasn't long before Fazimaf came to her rescue though, suddenly appearing by her side and taking her by the arm to pull her from the tent into the street.

Out of one mob and into another.

Kathryn had to take a step back at first, or risk falling.

The two of them were overrun by all the Caltisens after only a few steps into the sea of people. She guessed they were the ones from the audience based on the way they exclaimed over her performance, or else they wouldn't have seen it. The press of bodies as they all tried to get near while she walked was suffocating and though she tried to follow Fazimaf as best she could, it was hard while her hands were being grabbed from all sides and her fingers pressed to Caltisen eyelids.

At long last, she escaped with her teacher into another building, this one far smaller than the amphitheater though still obviously a public building. The mob of Caltisens stopped at the entrance, held back by she didn't even know what, but she was thankful to finally be able to catch her breath.

They were nice, but their adulation was a little much. She got the feeling they didn't get a lot of visitors here, especially ones willing to get through their Otho. Their deep voices continued to follow her as she kept close to Fazimaf's heels, steps echoing with the noise against the vaulted ceiling of the hall the entered with it's curling buttresses and carved reliefs. There wasn't time for her to do more than gape upward before she was being ushered through another, interior archway, and down a stair to an underground room.

It was small below, comparatively. In fact, it was about the size of her ready room aboard Voyager she realized, once she had the chance to stop and look about. There were benches every five feet or so and the ceiling was pretty high, but other than the two of them, the place was empty.

In front of her, Fazimaf had stopped. The woman turned abruptly on the spot and pressed her clothes into her hands, folding her darker fingers around her fists.

Kathryn hadn't even noticed she was holding anything while they were headed here.

"You did..." The woman stumbled over words and looked down at their clasped hands. She seemed to be almost shaking. "There are no words to express it. No visitor has ever done the Otho such justice. The Rites will proceed without hindrance now, more beautiful than any year before it because of your contribution." Her eyes looked on the verge of tears.

Caught off guard, Kathryn did her best to console the woman. "We so greatly appreciate all that you've done for us, I'm glad to be able to show it." She took back one of her hands and patted Fazimaf's arm gently.

The Caltisen's face split in a radiant smile, a first since their meeting. "You must change. The Elders will want to thank you properly before the festivities get underway. I'll leave you in- _privacy_." She exaggerated the last word, nodding her head to call attention to her consideration and their surroundings.

Kathryn didn't have time to ask what the 'properly' part meant, because Fazimaf was already gone, feet disappearing back up the stone steps. She shook her head at the woman and started to peel her costume off, only vaguely wondering how she was going to remove the paint still on her face.

:

It was nearly twenty minutes later when the woman finally returned.

In the interim, Kathryn had managed to mostly remove the paint from her face but was still worrying over what might be stuck in her eyebrows. Hearing the sound of footsteps though, she stood from the seat she had taken on one of the high benches and turned.

Fazimaf and several other Caltisen women were flooding down the steps, all speaking urgently, hurrying toward her with bright bundles over their arms.

Eying them uncertainly, she tried to smile.

"There." Fazimaf said as she stopped in front of her. "We have lettings for you, Pa-Kathryn."

"Whoa, what now?" Kathryn blinked, puzzled over the strange term. There were always a few terms the universal translator struggled with when dealing with a new language, but this was the first she'd heard of this new one. She had only ever heard of the Otho, the beginning act to their festival- the Rite of Beysant and the honorific term they sometimes put in front of names.

Fazimaf seemed to ignore her as she held the bundle of clothe in her arms up to her face. "Which color, do you think?"

Kathryn opened her mouth to say something but remained silent when she realized the instructor wasn't even talking to her, but to the women grouped around them.

One woman stepped forward. "Definitely mine. It matches the color of her eyes." She shook out her bundle of brilliant blue fabric with dark maroon thread stitched into an intricate kind of border and it was only then that it became apparent that the thing she was holding was some kind of two-piece dress or something.

Looking down at herself, Kathryn's gaze fell on the black and red of her uniform that she'd worn to the planet's surface today. She sighed. She should have guessed they'd do something like this.

Caltisen's didn't seem to have much of a tolerance for bland colors.

There were murmurs of approval throughout the whole throng of women when the clothe was draped over her shoulder, exclaims over the others taste.

Why did she suddenly feel like she was surrounded by the characters of an Emily Bronte book?

Fazimaf nodded in acceptance looking around at all the other nods she was receiving. "Yes, that one will do." The woman reached out and started tugging at her uniform.

"I-" Kathryn fanned her hands out in front of body to bring her instructor to a stop. "-I can dress myself." Her best placating smile plastered itself over her face.

The Caltisen blinked at her, first with one set of eyelids, than the second, thicker ones. "Y-es." Fazimaf withdrew her hands swiftly as though burned. "Yes, of course. _Privacy._ I apologize." As one, she and the other women turned their backs.

Apparently word of her talk with her instructor had spread. Feeling even more exposed than she had before in the pavilion behind a partition, Kathryn pulled the layers of her accustomed uniform from her body hurriedly and forced the new clothe over her shoulders. After that though, she stopped, not really knowing what to do next. Taking the next piece in hand, she slipped it over her hips.

It was some kind of skirt, she was sure.

The only problem was, she had absolutely no idea how this thing was supposed to fit on her.

Closing it around herself, she cleared her throat. "Uh, I might need a little help."

If the women around her giggled, they hid it well enough that she didn't care.

Fazimaf slowly turned, eyes on the floor. Her gaze raised hesitantly before she stepped forward and gently pulled the pieces of loose clothe from limp fingers. She folded the shorter of the clothe strips on the top up against Kathryn's chest, fastening it in place with quick adept fingers. Then she wrapped the other in a slant around her frame the other direction, creating a robe-like blouse that hugged her middle and draped down over her thighs. This was snapped into place too.

The second piece she had gotten almost right. It slid up her legs a little more to bunch at her waistline and did indeed fasten there like a skirt, falling flat and heavy, slightly longer in the front than in the back. Slippers of matching color were pried around her feet and twined about her ankles.

Kathryn looked herself over as best she could.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

Her instructor made a small noise with her lips and two other women turned to assist.

They made her sit, pulling her hair from the tiny braids along her part and weaving it instead into something that felt vaguely like a braid except it became a knot at the very end that curled back and around. That, at least, she could see. Another woman knelt in front of her and used a clothe to clean her face. Then she used some kind of make-up on her, taking a moment before she was satisfied and trilled it to the room.

Just as abruptly as the group of women had descended upon her, they went rushing away, chatting loudly, and Fazimaf ushered her to follow. She was pulled up the stairs and couldn't help but laugh at the sense of presentation she felt from the women around her. As though she was a work of art to be gawked at. Or a disaster waiting to happen. Together with them surrounding her, thankfully with Fazimaf at her side, she was led into the large hall she had passed through before.

Only now, the atrium it was attached to was not quite so empty.

Her crew had arrived, dispersed about a fire pit she hadn't even noticed in the center of the room. The sounds of their voices were captured and reverberated by the high ceilings, adding to the sounds of water coming from somewhere, the crackle of fire, and the deep voices of the many attending Caltisen's. The room itself looked like it could fit only a few more people, but she wouldn't have described it as crowded. Full, but not oppressively so.

A hush fell as those gathered noticed her groups arrival though.

Feeling many eyes upon her, Kathryn searched for someone in particular to assure her heart that she wasn't too far from a familiar face. Meeting Chakotay's eyes near the front right, she smiled. Only when he failed to smile back, did she understand he was staring at her specifically. She smirked to fight off a blush.

Faster than she could think and definitely faster than she could move, hands grabbed her arms and propelled her to the front of the group.

Several old and extremely tall Caltisens stood near the raised, square fire pit, their impressive eight feet height making her feel dwarfed almost immediately.

As she was offered up before them, her spine straightened, shoulders back and smirk back in place just as quickly as it had slipped. She'd never been more grateful for her Captains instinct and bearing, for she faced the Elders as an equal, despite the fact that she had no idea what was going to happen.

One Elder, draped in black and white robes, approached her and then turned his back. He faced the room at large and spread out his arms wide to the audience, which hushed even further, though she hadn't known that was possible. His words came out in a tone so deep, she felt it in the pit of her stomach. "In the first light, there was ground. The second, was the fire. The third was water, and finally the sky. And all gave birth to the Caltisen race. So we were born, so shall we depart. This performer of the Otho is thanked and recognized. Let it be known, she is to always be welcome here. Ever after, her kin shall be our kin, her woes ours." He turned back to her and inclined his head, putting his fingertips against his eyelids.

Not able to think of anything better to do, Kathryn repeated the gesture.

The Caltisens, including the Elders, trilled in approval.

"Let the celebration begin!" The Elder called to the assemblage.

Loud trills followed that. Music started from an indeterminate source and Kathryn found herself half-stumbling to the side to get out of the way of one Caltisen who jumped up to dance.

Her arm was caught almost immediately.


End file.
